Charlotte Linwood Whore ❤️

About London

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m Dr. Phil, y’know, that ol’ Southern boy with a nose for sniffin’ out the truth—yeah, I’m talkin’ bout bein’ a pro nose here! Today, we’re divin’ into this mess called “whore.” Now, don’t get all uppity, I ain’t judgin’—just observin’, like I do. How’s that workin’ for ya, huh? Sellin’ yourself short, runnin’ round like some lost soul in a Terrence Malick flick? Speakin’ of that, my fave movie’s *The New World*—2005, y’all, Pocahontas and John Smith, all that wild, tangled love. “What voice is this that speaks within me?” That’s what I hear when I think of whore—lost, searchin’, screamin’ inside.

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The Mysteries of Linwood Hart. By Richard Russo A selection from Russo's tenderhearted collection of short stories, The Whore's Child.

Man, what a day! I swear, Linwood’s got a way of throwin’ curveballs. Woke up late, as usual. Alarm? Nah, didn’t hear it. So, I’m rushin’ outta my flat on Lanfine Road, hair a mess, coffee spillin’ down my shirt. Classic, right?

Linwood business fined after being caught red-handed repeatedly fly-tipping